


The Right Amount of Mess

by TheMisanthropicPhilanthropist



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Cute, Drawings, Fiori - Freeform, Fluff, Gay Dwarves, Kili is an idiot, M/M, One Shot, Ori has fallen HARD, Ori is an artist, fili/ori - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMisanthropicPhilanthropist/pseuds/TheMisanthropicPhilanthropist
Summary: Just a little thing I found from a year ago, figured it might be worth it to post. Takes place some time along the adventure in movieverse. Didn't really plan on going anywhere with this.In which Ori loves both drawing and Fíli





	

The trick with charcoal was not so much the way you held it, nor even the strokes you made. For Ori it was making the right amount of mess. His old arts master had once told him that skill was measured in neatness. Ori recognized this as an opinion, but for his entire sketching career it seemed to be the constant that guided him. One day he sat back and took a look at his drawings and realized he was quite good; But, of course, an improving artist does not have the luxury of thinking this about oneself for too long a period. For years Ori trained under harshness, and so it was with his own harshness he continued to improve.  He eventually was able to reach mastery in his art in finding the balance between order and chaos.

It is in attempting to achieve the right amount of mess with an incredibly messy subject that the thought presents itself to him. Ori looks at Fíli and thinks, _He’s perfect._ His golden tresses shine in the sun, the many braids and waves settling disorderly and _perfectly_ on his shoulders. And what shoulders at that- broad and strong. He looks magnificent. Absolutely stunning.

“I look stupid, don’t I? I knew it, I look stupid.”

“No! No, no, you’re fantastic- I mean,” _oh Mahal,_ “you’re doing wonderful. I am almost finished.”

“No, he’s right, he does look pretty stupid,” a certain _other_ dwarf prince, this one with disheveled dark hair and an idiot grin plastered to his face, calls from off to the side.

“Stuff it, Kíli.” A pause. “Ouch!”

Ori looks up from his work in alarm. Apparently Kíli’s graduated from using his words to throwing rocks.

“Don’t disturb my subject! You almost made him move,” he grumbles.

“I got his nose though, that’s got to count for something!” Sure enough, the left side of Fíli’s nose is beginning to take on a rosy hue. His features contort in discomfort but Ori can tell he is trying his best to remain still.

“Aye, lad, you get ten points for the nose,” Bofur chimes in helpfully from his place on the rock where he’s sharpening his mattock. Kíli cheers.

“You are such a pain.”

“You _adore_ me.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Kíli please, I’m almost done,” Ori pleads, his heart not in it. Nagging Kíli has become something of a ritual over time.

A dramatic sigh. “ _Fine_ , but only because I respect you, Ori.”

“Thank the Maker,” Fíli mutters.

The truth is, he doesn’t want to finish. Not really. Now is the only time he _really_ gets to look at Fíli. He’s too scared to look any other time, what with Dori breathing down his neck and Thorin’s careful eye. He doesn’t want to get caught s _taring_ at the crown prince- the trouble he’d be in. He winces at the thought. It takes almost all of his courage after he finishes the portrait to put down his stick and say, “Alright then, it’s done.”

Fíli grins and stretches his back. “Let’s see it then!” The smile on his face is threatening to remove what sanity Ori has left. The golden haired prince enthusiastically strides over to where Ori is perched and sits right down beside him. Ori forgets to breathe for a moment at their proximity, shoulders brushing, knees touching.

“That’s brilliant! It’s wonderful Ori!” He beams and begins to laugh. “You made me look so heroic. I look more… serious. What’s the word? Stoic.”

“Oi! Let me see!” Now Ori is squished up against another prince, this one far less enchanting. “Oh, that’s incredible…” he says very serious, “he actually looks _handsome._ ”

Fíli reaches over Ori and hits his brother up the back side of the head. “I think Ori draws it just like it is. You’re just jealous because I’ve got a-“

“If you say beard, Fíli I swear, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you with my bare hands-“

“Oh, knock it off, the both of you,” Ori says nudging the two of them. Sandwiched between the two he can barely move his arms. “Am I permitted to stand? I need to stretch my legs.” Immediately he is swathed in a wash of apologies and released from his princely prison. It feels good to stand, and as exhilarating as it is to have Fíli so close to him, as of late, it’s becoming a touch too overwhelming. He prays his hot face doesn’t resemble a radish _too_ much as he stretches out his stiff muscles.

“I say you do Bilbo next,” Fíli offers. “Nervous little fellow. See how long he can sit still.” Kíli snorts.

“Perhaps,” Ori says, a smile tugging at his lips. Despite what some of the company seems to think of him, Ori quite likes Mr. Bilbo, fussiness and all. After talking to him for a time one day, Ori discovered the hobbit was actually quite kind. A good natured fellow when dwarves aren’t raiding his kitchen. “Maybe I will.”

 


End file.
